


Call to Corruption

by LaughableLament



Series: Comment Ficlets [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Demon Dean Winchester, Episode Coda S09e23, Episode Related, Impala Sex, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, M/M, Seriously Demon Dean is a Dick, Ugly Sex, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He opened his eyes, scribbled a note, and slipped into the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call to Corruption

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/gifts).



> Double-fill for [this prompt](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/627086.html?thread=86057102#t86057102):
>
>> 300 Words: SPN, demon!Dean/Crowley - "Now that you've got me... what are you going to do with me?" :P

_…let's go take a howl at that moon._

It ain’t what he expected, goin’ black-eyed. And make no mistake, he’s been expecting it. Maybe his whole damn life, but for sure since he kissed that girl at the crossroads. Figured when it happened he’d be full up with rage and spite, or at least that sorta, malicious glee he’s wiped off countless demons’ faces.

Nope.

Dean’s empty. 

“Corn Nut?” Crowley pipes up, pointing a vile smelling bag his way.

He curls his lip. “No.” 

Crowley shrugs. “Thought you liked gas station nosh.” 

“That ain’t nosh,” Dean grits. “That ain’t fit to feed a dog.”

“Touchy,” Crowley gripes.

’Course, right around then Dean realizes, a dog’s pretty much what he is now. Wonders if he ranks above or below the bitch that tried to eat his face when he dug up the Blade.

“What’re we doin’ here, Crowley?” he asks. “I mean, you got me, brought me back, so…”

“Anything.” The King, _his_ King, gestures expansively. “What tickles your fancy, noble Knight?”

Pft. Noble. “Get drunk, get laid, get in a fight…” Huh. Guess he hasn’t changed that much.

Crowley’s voice drops low, seductive. “We could do those.” His sales pitch persona. “Well, except the fight. You keep that pretty jawbone pointed away from me, understand?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

 _Wait_.

“Wait. You wanna fuck me?” That’s damn near as disgusting as Corn Nuts.

“You misunderstand.” The wounded act. “A hole’s a hole, _n’est-ce pas?_ Promise I’ll wiggle and squeal like that broth – ”

Dean holds up a finger. Crowley’s jaw snaps shut. He leans across the seat; fingers tease Dean’s inseam. “Think about it.”

Dean does. Do him good to bend the limey bastard over, make him useful for once. It ain’t _want_ he feels, it’s scorn, but… it’s something.

He pulls over.

\--

“Out.” Dean points with his chin.

“What, right here? On the side of the bloody road?”

“You want candles and romance? Get on eHarmony.”

Crowley squints. Looks for a second like he’ll shut this whole thing down. Dean smiles, almost his panty-dropping special but it’s vicious now. More dare than invitation. Crowley climbs out.

Dean follows. Pauses to root in his bag for a rubber. Immortal Knight or not, no way he’s goin’ bare in Crowley’s ass. Digs up a half-used bottle of Wet and chucks it.

“Get ready.” He walks to the back of the car, leans against the trunk.

“You’re joking.”

“We doin’ this or not?” They are. If he has to hold the Blade to Crowley’s throat. He doesn’t watch, doesn’t listen. Looks up at the stars. Sees more of them now. Sees more of everything. A buck in the woods. Mosquitos circling.

Crowley’s thousand-dollar suit pants bunch around his thighs. He sort of waddles his way back to Dean. It should be hilarious. Crowley assumes the position. 

“Don’t get come on my car.”

“Just get on with it.”

Dean opens his jeans. Strokes himself a time or ten. Has to think about Eva Longoria to get his dick cooperating. Tubed and lubed he lines up, shoves in. Fuck it’s tight. _A hole’s a hole._ Crowley takes him like a champ.

Balls deep, he holds still for a long minute. He could make it good for Crowley, probably should. Might want another shot at this. He rotates, rocks his hips. Earns a hiss and a stifled moan.

Doesn’t take much to find a sweet spot, make them both a panting mess and he circles slick fingers around his King. With a shouted curse Crowley crashes over, seizing muscles drag Dean right behind, black-eyed and roaring.

Sated.

Empty.


End file.
